


You really ought to give Iowa a try

by hopefor46



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: 2008 Campaign Era (Crooked Media RPF), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefor46/pseuds/hopefor46
Summary: Remix ofMen Seldom Make Passesbyjustlikesomuch.





	You really ought to give Iowa a try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justlikesomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikesomuch/gifts).

> Remix of [Men Seldom Make Passes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302256) by [justlikesomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikesomuch/pseuds/justlikesomuch).

Before he even met him, Tommy had heard about him.

“He’s some kinda Hillary supervol,” his new second-in-command Tanya told him the night he pulled into town to capture Black Hawk County for Obama. Six weeks and they’d be packing up again, headed to another early state or HQ if they were lucky. Tommy had read all the briefings about why every county mattered, but he could more or less take or leave this one, especially in December.

Tanya had been in Waterloo since September and she clearly knew every single person in town. Tommy thought maybe she was overlooking the forest.

“Okay.”

“Oh, there’s more. His day job’s at the Presidential Library.”

“Is Iowa the only state with a general Presidential library?”

“Yeah, probably. First in the nation!” she crowed suddenly. Tanya was incredibly smart and organized. Her general corniness was the most surprising thing about her. Maybe Iowa was getting to her. “But the word around town is that he was sleeping with the old Hillary field director who promised him all this stuff if she wins.”

Tanya dropped her bag suddenly, the _thwap _echoing through Tommy’s for-now apartment. “The field director was very popular—everybody loved him.” Tommy hoped his face was studiously blank enough that he wouldn’t be making any confessions to Tanya tonight. “But Lovett’s more of an acquired taste. So when the director got called back to New York suddenly…” When Tommy winced at her, she shrugged. “I don’t care, but people around here, they do.”

“Was it campaign level?”

“Probably not.”

It was some kind of dirt, but it wasn’t actionable dirt, so Tommy pushed it out of his head. They weren’t going to win Black Hawk County based on rumors about staffers. This one would play out like all the others.

So he maintained until the first time he actually came face to face with him.

It happened at the Black Hawk County Dems meeting. Tommy had been zoning out and doodling on his campaign-issue legal pad, knowing Tanya would handle most of the particulars as she had capably been doing for weeks.

He wasn’t loud into the mic, that night, Tommy thought later. It was as though all the _other_sounds in the room had been turned down to accommodate him. _Him_, the short kid in a blue sweater, brown hair curling a little at the ends in the absence of a haircut. _Him _with the slight pan of a Long Island accent, coated with something else… New England maybe?

Suddenly _he _pivoted on one foot to face Tommy. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 

“Hold on, who’s this guy?”

“Order,” whimpered a county Dem executive faintly.

“I’ve literally never laid eyes on him before.”

Tommy held up one hand, cautiously. “Tommy Vietor. I’m with Ob—“

“I guessed as much with you sitting next to Tanya. Any _particular _reason you’re sitting in on this casual procedural? Got some new wrenches to throw into the works before we move ahead?”

“Just here to learn,” Tommy said, feeling himself flush, suddenly small.

“Lovett,” Tanya said. He lapsed into a smile.

“Welcome to Waterloo, Tommy.” The rest of the meeting whistled past Tommy’s ears.

Tommy couldn’t explain why, but shortly after, he found himself detouring to the Presidential Library for a look around.

For a town as small as Waterloo, the Presidential Library held an impressive collection of memorabilia and a decent research space. This close to the caucuses, most of the visitors were national reporters, but they zoomed in on the campaign buttons and the vintage ballot box and left Tommy alone. 

Its reading room was a great place to work when Tommy needed to get away from the crush of volunteers and staffers at HQ, and couldn’t stand one more cup of coffee at Daily Joe. That’s what Tommy told himself.

And of course, there was Lovett, half-jogging through the halls, compact but ruffled. His brightly colored sneakers contradicted his invariable sweaters and business casual pants. One time he showed up in loafers, and that’s how Tommy knew they were expecting special guests.

Not that Tommy was noticing, really. Just a little. He could juggle all the critical numbers for his campaign and also pay attention to the guy that paid attention to him. For whatever reason. No need to look into it.

And Lovett was _funny. _At first he barely acknowledged him. Then he started to poke at Tommy a little, taking the occasional guest past his desk with a quip about the caucuses coming up and joking about the “infiltration of CERTAIN campaigns into our humble ABODE” loud enough that Tommy could hear him. Once he brought over a complaint letter the Library had gotten related to last summer’s Eisenhower exhibit and read it in a dramatically quavering voice. If Tommy didn’t acknowledge him right away, and if the Library was very quiet, Lovett would even post himself up on the table where Tommy was working, swinging his legs back and forth as he talked.

Sometimes it got personal.

“You work out, right? Actually, what am I saying, of _course _you do. Of _course. _So why does every guy at the gym have to take 8 towels and then spread them out carpet-style as they dry every piece of their anatomy, separately? Like, you can’t touch your _own limbs _now?”

Tommy laughed so hard he cried. “You missed your calling, Lovett.”

Lovett’s eyebrows shot up. “Did I?”

“Yeah. You should’ve been a comedy librarian.”

It felt like a daily vacation to talk about something other than the cross-tabs, the doors, the polling… And while Lovett was talking, Tommy could just look at him, and his curls, and his glasses.

Tommy ended up drinking at the Legion most nights because he could walk home. Plus, it was a novelty to him, a fact of endless amusement to his Midwest-born field directors who could all describe stealing sips of beer as kids in similar halls. When Tommy heard “American Legion” he used to think parades. Or cemeteries.

But not after Iowa. And especially not the night he was alone clutching a Hamm’s and Lovett walked in. 

He looked great, Tommy thinks to himself, watching Lovett sweep the bar with his eyes and take a stool two down from Tommy. Leaving the door open for Tommy to talk if he wants, but did Lovett want? Lovett’d had his hair cut. It forced Tommy to put a name to what he’s been feeling, at the least practical time, in the least practical place.

Tommy should have been back at HQ planning the next day’s moves, or filing his field report. Instead he was gesturing to the local news on the TV about a lost tuba and next year’s Grecian Urn festival, cracking a joke, watching Lovett tip his head back with laughter, how he talked with his hands when he responded.

When Lovett made a crack, just like usual, about how Tommy must have something better to do tonight “OR someone,” Tommy saw an opening. Maybe it was the whiskey Lovett bought him to sit next to the Hamm’s.

“Why do you tease me like that?”

“What?”

“Why do you always joke about my trail conquests, or campaign romances, how popular I am out here?”

Instantly Lovett’s face closed like a door and Tommy hated it. “That wasn’t what I was doing.”

“Come on.”

“You must have misunderstood my _friendly _banter.”

“I don’t think I did.” Tommy felt himself flushing but can’t stop himself.

“Are you serious right now?” Lovett’s narrowed eyes told Tommy he fucked up. “Do you need me to pay you a real compliment just to get you to leave me alone?” Suddenly the 3 weeks Tommy had left in town looked like a mercy.

“Nope, no, sorry, I’ll leave you, excuse me.”

Tommy dropped a bill on the bar he didn’t even look at and pushed back in such a hurry that the bar stool rocked dangerously under him. He stalked out without jamming on his hat or gloves, a decision he regretted as the cold instantly grabbed onto him. It hurt, but not as much as hearing Lovett so drastically reject what Tommy was _sure _he was feeling between them. If nothing as strong as love, at least something they could share.

Tommy slammed his own door and looked desultorily out at his temporary studio, his mini-fridge and empty couch/ hide-a-bed. What had he been thinking, anyway? To bring Lovett back like a date to his sad, tawdry apartment, do with his open mouth what he’d failed to do every other time they had been together? Somehow cajole open this settled-down man with a place in the world, to take a chance on some random guy who’d be gone in 3 weeks anyway?

Never to see Lovett again—Tommy’s heart thudded in his chest. But if he did a good enough job in Iowa, that was the goal, wasn’t it? Impress the boss, win Iowa, go back to HQ and hopefully build something lasting for November.

Tommy was slowly going crazy out in this snow alone. It wasn’t like New England winters with flannel sheets, hot cocoa and hockey. He was overworked and lonely. He just needed to get back to what was important, to ground himself. That’s what Favs would tell him to do.

No sooner had Tommy flipped his laptop open that he heard a knock at the door.

Tommy didn’t have a peephole, and the temptation to call out to whoever it was to wait till tomorrow sung out to him, but it was probably for work and if he had anything, it was the reputation of always being game to do 1 more pass no matter what time. So he shuffled to the door and pulled it open a foot.

There stood Lovett, in a down coat with the bulk and shape of a sleeping bag and a fake-fur-lined-hat with flaps that tied over his head. He looked small in all his outerwear, like he never looked commanding the rail at the center, and Tommy was briefly overwhelmed by the desire to pull him in, but Lovett pushed in with just a nod, automatically dropping his coat over Tommy’s boots.

Lovett took three steps into the apartment before he looked back at Tommy.

“Do you really live here? Or is this just a spare office?”

“Yeah. And… well, yeah.” Lovett settled himself precariously on the corner of the kitchen counter. Without his coat he looked even smaller, more embraceable. Embraceable him. Tommy should stop drinking; that plus the campaign hours were clearly messing with his brain.

“I—” Tommy began, entirely unsure of where he was going to go with the rest of the sentence.

“You _know _why,” Lovett said, with a glance back at the kitchen counter like it was going to turn on him. Then his eyes challenged Tommy. Of course, he was talking about asking Lovett why he was always referring to Tommy’s love life. His _sex _life, Tommy thought feverishly.

“If I’d understood,” Tommy said truthfully, “I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s funny! You can take it. You’re straight, you’re hot and you always react to it. A little fun for people like me. And you know all of that. That’s all it is.”

“So it’s just a joke?” Lovett’s brow furrowed deeper still.

“Of course it’s a joke!” Lovett shook his head disbelievingly. “But fine, I can stop. Not like there’s anyone else in this town I could jokingly come on to, but I’ll live.” Tommy wanted to reach out and touch him so badly. Instead he just balled his fists nervously and hoped he didn’t come off as threatening.

Lovett went on like he didn’t even see him. “They told you about Adam, didn’t they? Or their version of it.” Tommy nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. “Typical, can’t have 2 gay guys in one town without everyone assuming that they’re hooking up, that their relationship is _special_. They can’t just be bonding over all the casual homophobia they’re exposed to out here. Nope.”

Lovett took off his hat and ruffled through his hair like that was a definitive statement. Then his shoulders slumped and he continued, “Working with Adam was great. I miss him a lot. _As a friend_. When he got called up to HQ, I probably slammed around the center more than usual that week, sure. But we never—” Lovett paused. “He wasn’t my type, and anyway, he had a boyfriend.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all you have to say about it, okay?”

“Your—your version of events sounds more likely, and I believe you.”

“So sorry I was trying to cut you in on—a place in my life that’s just so, supremely empty right now, I’m relying on free nights and weekends to be my not straight friend. If I’ve taken any _liberties_.”

“Why don’t you—”

“Try to date out here? Please. A wasteland unless you wanna drive 50 miles to find out if you may have chemistry.” Lovett laughed drily and the _hah _hung in the air between them. “Pretending I’m about to come onto people is a poor substitute for having an actual personal life after all.”

Tommy could feel the moment accordion out to something bigger, if he’s bold enough to say something. And he may not get another chance.

“I was going to say, why don’t you find someone else who’s not straight?”

“Did you not just hear me? Tried it, didn’t work, barren—fallow—fields, whatever they say out here.”

“Or you could try me.”

“I don’t seriously come on to straight guys, Tommy. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”

“What if I weren’t straight?”

Lovett looked at the ground. “But you are, Tommy.”

_Who’s making assumptions now? _Tommy thought, and had to bite it back for being too cruel. Instead, he just coughed politely and waited for Lovett to look up at him, like he’s trying to puzzle Tommy out.

Tommy took a shuffle forward, hardly a step. He spoke without realizing he just lowered his voice. “Did you think about it? Tell me—it wasn’t just me.” It was out there now, offered up to Lovett to accept or push away.

He could stay with his joke or just walk right out of Tommy’s life.

“_Have _you thought about it?” There was a hint of Lovett’s old teasing, but something new and warm and intoxicating. Tommy couldn’t help but smile.

“Ever since the county Dems meeting.”

“That was a month ago!” Lovett protested, back to his teasing lilt, but his eyes intent behind his glasses. Tommy stepped forward and placed a hand on the counter, testing. With his other hand he reached up and turned Lovett’s face near him. Just the casual touch, beyond anything that’s happened by accident, felt hot with meaning.

Tommy tilted up his chin, slowly, so slowly that Lovett could push him away at any moment—as he expects him to. So the first catch of their lips was a surprise. Lovett immediately started pressing in for more, and Tommy let him.

When Lovett finally broke the kiss, he sounds rattled. “I… _Tommy_. I thought this would never happen.” Tommy wanted to hear him out, almost as much as he wanted to keep kissing him, so he gently shifted his mouth to Lovett’s jaw, his sweet earlobe, relishing Lovett’s little gasps and cries. “Like, you know, campaign—fuck—hookups are a thing, I just assumed it would never happen to me, if—oh—”

Tommy took his face in both hands. “And you want this to happen?”

“_Yes._” 

“Do you believe me now?”

“Do I be—” Tommy couldn’t wait for Lovett to get the words out. He wanted to cover Lovett completely, touch him in every place at once. He backed him against the door with what he hoped was finesse, fumbled for the hem of Lovett’s shirt, then his own.

Lovett thunked back his head against the door. “_Fuck_.”

“What?” Did he want to stop? He wanted to stop.

“I just… look at you.”

“Rather look at you,” Tommy said, sweeping his eyes over Lovett.

“I thought you just liked me because I was funny.”

“Oh, you’re funny.”

“And brilliant.”

“And brilliant.”

“And a well-regarded font of political wisdom and Iowa presidential history.”

“Don’t push it,” Tommy said, working his hands down Lovett’s bare back, daring to graze his ass, just a little.

Lovett’s eyes danced. “A seduce and destroy? Is that what this is?” And Tommy had to meet his sweet mouth again, pressing him to the door, grinding up against him till he heard Lovett moan.

“I’m seduced,” he whispered in Lovett’s ear.

“I don’t know…” Lovett laughed, losing his breath as Tommy fell to his knees, watching him as he unzipped Lovett’s fly, started stroking him gently through his boxers. He was already hard and jolted when Tommy got a hand on him. _It’s not just me_, Tommy thought to himself, smiling into the dark corners of his own head.

“Okay?”

“Fuck. Okay.” Tommy pulled him out, let himself be overwhelmed by how Lovett smelled and tasted, how much louder he got as Tommy went down. The hand in Tommy’s hair, the way Lovett couldn’t stay still under him.

“Hey Tommy.” Tommy pulled off and blinked up at him. “You have a bed in this place or…”

The sofabed was terrible, but it would hold. Tommy lay Lovett down and crawled over him, Lovett wrapping his legs around him. Lovett’s thighs were strong and solid. Tommy couldn’t believe he was getting to touch them, to hear Lovett’s high whine and choked-out “I’m—Tommy—”

When he pulled off he saw Lovett still had his glasses on, his hair a mess, halfway to dozing. Tommy suddenly felt ungainly, in the way. There was nowhere to go. He didn’t want to feel Lovett make the decision to get up and leave.

He tried to extract himself from Lovett’s legs, off the back of the bed, as neatly as possible, but Lovett’s eyes popped open.

“What are you doing?”

“I just…” _Don’t want you to go_, his traitor brain filled in silently. “Wanted to… give you… space.”

Lovett’s eyebrows shot up. “Did I say I wanted space? Get up here.” Feeling like he had at least 3 more limbs than an hour ago, Tommy clambered up into the empty space next to Lovett, trying not to touch him, but Lovett immediately pulled him in for a filthy kiss, pushing his tongue into Tommy’s mouth, feeling his bicep.

“If I asked you,” he murmured into Tommy’s ear, “to fuck me against a wall, could you do it? I bet you could do it.” They both felt what that idea did to Tommy. Lovett reached down without hesitation and got a grip on him. “Next time,” he panted.

It was the sweetest agony, Lovett’s hand on him, stroking him slowly, and imagining the next time. That there _would _be a next time. Tommy threw his head back and groaned.

In the end, they lost Black Hawk County. But so did Hillary, at least. Black Hawk went to Edwards, even though Tommy could swear he never saw an Edwards staffer outside of the county Dems meetings, not once. It was just one of those things.

The last 3 weeks before the caucus, Tommy barely slept. That was usual. What wasn’t:

Looking up from his laptop at the Presidential Library to see Lovett beaming at him.

Detouring on the way to the campaign office to Lovett’s office, locking the door and pressing urgently against him, quietly, never enough.

Letting himself in with Lovett’s spare key, finding him in bed, dropping off to sleep with his warmth against Tommy like a pillow.

The stolen moments were adding up, but Tommy didn’t see it that way. Seeing Lovett, only for a minute, charged him up, made him feel like he was all live wires and energy. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he didn’t care.

Towards the end of caucus night, Tommy was pacing the hallways outside the music room at Norman Borlaug High School when Dan called.

“I don’t have the numbers,” Tommy said in what he hoped wasn’t as much of a snarl as he felt.

“Vietor. We’re up.”

“What.”

“You’re the last county out. Don’t fucking go in there, but we don’t need it. We’re gonna take Iowa.”

Just then Tommy spotted Lovett at the other end of the hallway, kicking a sneakered foot at a stray piece of sheet music. He felt dizzy and conflicted. He wanted so badly to yell out and tell him… but then…

“Wow,” is all he could muster.

“So, you ready to come back to Chicago?”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. Turns out there are 49 other states in this thing. Who knew.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay. We can probably wrap up by Friday.” Chicago! Favs and Cody and Dan. Free good coffee all the time at HQ. Being closer to the boss. And beyond then…

“Try to make it sooner.” Tommy watched Lovett pacing as if from the wrong end of the telescope.

“Tanya coming with?” She really could’ve run the county on her own, Tommy thought. He hoped she was getting promoted. She deserved it.

“You know it. We might send her out to North Carolina soon, though.”

“She loves the life.”

“And the life loves her. Get some sleep tonight, okay?”

“You’re one to talk,” Tommy said to the dial tone.

He meant to put some distance between him and Lovett, try and sort this out, but he’d already spotted him.

“Hey, so, uh.” Lovett sidled up to him, took his hand as they leaned against the lockers. It felt like high school all over again. What was Lovett like in high school, Tommy thought.

Would he ever get the chance to find out? Was this the end?

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Tommy said suddenly.

“Me either. I hated high school. At least I’m getting paid this time.”

“No, I…” It suddenly seemed urgent for Tommy to say how he felt. Even if tonight was the last time. “With you. I don’t know… what this is. But I don’t want this to be the end.” With shock he looked at Lovett and realized he was already staring back.

“What?” Lovett whispered, but he didn’t take his hand away.

“I have to move, but I’m in love with you.” Well, that came out wrong, Tommy thought. He closed his eyes. He was just so tired, he couldn’t stop messing up. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

With difficulty Tommy opened his eyes. Lovett was staring back up at him, his adoration like a beam.

“Me too.” Lovett blinked slowly and cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t need to move. But—me too.”

“Really?”

“Really. And the rumor mill is gonna _love it_.” Tommy turned Lovett’s head and kissed him once, twice. It was all too much.

He broke the kiss just to ask, “You’re not mad at me?”

“_Tommy_. For what? Succumbing to my charms?” For that Tommy had to tickle that spot behind his ear that made him squeal. “Chicago’s not that far. I’ll visit. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’ll be…” Tommy trailed off. He didn’t need to remind Lovett that the campaign would be longer, and worse, and even more draining. Lovett had already seen him at his worst. And he wanted to keep him anyway.

Lovett leaned up and pecked him on the forehead, mockingly. “You need food. Can you leave? Let’s get out of here.” Tommy waved at Tanya, he could swear he saw her wink, as Lovett pulled him out of the front doors chattering happily in front of him.

“Did I ever tell you how I once got locked in a recycling bin?”

**Author's Note:**

> The town of Waterloo and the county it sits in is real; everything else is made up including Lovett’s workplace. (Seems like it would be nice, though!)


End file.
